The Unexpected History of Alatar & Pallo
by PK-chan12
Summary: A compilation of supplementary chapters that extend the history and lore behind my fanfic, The Unexpected Wizard Apprentice. Not stand alone pieces for those who haven't read the main story.
1. Chapter 1

**The Unexpected History of Alatar & Pallo**

This story will be a series of detailed expansions on the history glimpsed in my main story, **The Unexpected Wizard Apprentice**. It is not a stand alone story, but a supplement to the main story and should not be read until reading the proper non-extended chapters, otherwise you will run into a lot of spoilers :(

Since, I have delved even deeper into Tolkien lore and the ideas I had for Pallando and Alatar. It was to the point that I thought the backstory might have been a bit overwhelming to include in the main story. It was one of the concerns I had voiced earlier. I hope that putting the expanded history in this story collection will not only help avoid that problem, but give those who enjoyed the backstory of Lishka's parents, a more detailed and comprehensive look into what happened.

I hope the readers of _The Unexpected Wizard Apprentice_, will enjoy the more detailed look into the lives of Pallo and Alatar.

Cheers!

_PK-chan_

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The past of my parents, was one large scattered puzzle

But, on this journey, I am finding the pieces

Once collected and placed together

I will discover how Pallo and Alatar

Will help me save the Durin line.

~ _Lishka_, Wizard Apprentice


	2. Ch 32 Turrain's Ring Extended

**Author's Notes**

_Welcome welcome! This is very much hot off the press! It is based on the history Beorn told Lishka in chapter 32. So be sure that you have read that chapter in the main story before continuing on!_

_I feel this chapter is quite AU (I'm not sure if I used that correctly), I tried to do alot of background research into the various Dwarven clans and the origin of Dragons in Tolkien's world. It has alot of action, information, and I just ended up having alot of fun with it as I went along. For those who read on, there are some early secrets revealed!_

_I'm happy to get to share the side story and hope you will enjoy it! :)_

* * *

**Turráin's Ring Extended**

Bright stars strewn the heavens above. They twinkled and shined merrily down upon the distracted Dwarf prince. He had flaming auburn hair that fanned out about him like a regal crimson lion. His hair was adorned with many thick braids that were held by the silver clasps of Durin. His beard was separated into three smaller braids that were then woven together into one great braid, and held at the end by a large silver clasp.

As eldest prince to the Durin line, he wore luxuries robes and tunic of dark brownish-red. His boots were fur trimmed and his belt was thickly woven; held in place with a great silver belt buckle with the Durin emblem. Both were crimson in color.

He leaned against the crenelation of the great wall of Erebor. His honey brown eyes were scanning the distance. The dark shadow was growing. It had stayed within the mountain range of Mordor, but now it spilled over, covering the land in darkness as it grew. Soon Sauron's domination would even extend to his homeland.

Suddenly, a great shadow blocked the light coming from inside the lit halls of Erebor. But, this shadow did not instill fear or worry within the Dwarf prince. No, the owner of this towering shadow was a great friend and wise confidante. And his sudden presence eased the anxiety that had been building inside Turráin.

"Contemplating all the new legislatives you'll enact once King?" Chuckled the deep voice behind him. The Dwarf prince snorted for it was indeed going to be a long list. "One day, my kin will be accepted by, not just Aulë, but the other Valars. Our honor, valiance, and resilience will be known to all. Not our ability to accumulate wealth and hoard it from the world." Turráin shook his head. "I will make sure of that when I am King." The Dwarf turned to his friend. "There will be changes."

Turráin's warm honey eyes gazed up at the figure. The man was as tall as rearing bear. He had the strength of a bear as well. He wore thick grey blue Dwarven robes that were custom made for him by the Dwarves of Erebor. Even his large fur trimmed boots and heavy belt were Dwarven made, and of dark blue.

Over his robe were Dwarvish steel molded greaves, pauldron, and breastplate. The steel was shaped and woven like reptilian scales; flexible yet hardy. Covering his back and hanging off his shoulders was his navy blue cloak. The man pulled back the hood of his cape. Keen sapphire blue eyes sparkled kindly down upon his friend. His neatly trimmed raven black beard contrasted with his tousled and windswept short hair.

Alatar, the Blue Warrior Wizard nodded at this, though his lips broke into a lopsided smile. "Get some rest, it would be unseemly for you to fall asleep at your own pre-coronation ceremony." A smile spread across Turráin's bearded lips. "If I fall asleep, then you are allowed to nod off too. Especially if my father goes into one of his long winded speeches about Elves." The Dwarven Prince rolled his honey brown eyes.

His brow then furrowed in thought about the ever troubling relation between his kin and the Elven kind. It was high time to put the events of the past finally behind them all. "You won't solve anything with sleep deprivation." Rumbled Alatar's voice. Bringing Turráin out of his ever working mind.

Sighing in acquiescence, Turráin changed the subject. "How is your wife?" He asked with great interest for he hadn't had a chance to speak with her since their arrival. Her healing skills were always highly sought after. The Dwarven healers had whisked Pallando off, giving her only a chance to bestow Turráin with a tender kiss upon his cheek.

Such a dear and gentle lass she was. And it was hard to believe she was with child! Her belly gave no hint of it. "Ah, Pallo is rounding out nicely. The baby is quite spirited. Pallo keeps saying that she can feel the babe kicking and moving about." Alatar chuckled happily.

While happy to hear the good news, Turráin frowned that Pallo's belly was rounded. "Oi, she does not look the slightest bit pregnant." The Dwarf prince pointed out in confusion. To this the wizard gave his friend a lopsided grin. "Perks of being a wizard. Pallo is under guise. Only you and a handful of other persons in the world know of our daughter; best to keep it that way for now." Alatar finished with a grimace. The days had been steadily growing darker.

Seeing the worry fall upon his friend, Turráin sought to bring back the conversation to the lighter side as he jested. "Maybe once you become too busy with caring for the child, you'll grow out that beard of yours. You should add a little bit of flair to it." The prince gestured to his magnificent facial hair. The trick worked as Alatar barked a laugh as Turráin curled his crimson beard around his fingers and wiggled his brows. "Aye, but my beard will never be as fine as yours." The wizard commented as he stroked his neatly trimmed black beard.

Chuckling, both retreated back into the colossal green halls of Erebor. Well into the night, they recounted more great memories before departing to their beds and awaiting the great ceremony of the following day.

Turráin paced back and forth outside the large double doors. For one who usually had nerves of steel, the Prince was feeling quite nervous over this event. "Continue to pace like that and you'll dig tracks into the stone." A rumbling voice chuckled. Turráin smiled as he paused in his tracks to see Alatar approach. "Accepting the bequeathment of your destiny is never an easy thing. It shouldn't be." The Blue Wizard let his staff rest upon the stone floor. The green glistening halls of Erebor played upon the staff's twisted and gnarled top, making it look as if dark green fire played about the wood.

Alatar took a step back and then followed his friend into the great chamber. It was a grand circular room of a serpentine green color. This was where the Dwarven Council held their summit. Seven ornate thrones circled the room, where at the center was a green glistening stone podium. Each throne was occupied by the clan's head chief. There were the Broadbeams, Ironfist, Stiffbeards, Blacklocks, Stonefoots, and Longbeards or Durin's Folk. But, one throne remained empty, that of the Firebeards.

King Náin held out the ring, "Turráin, come forth." The elder Dwarf beckoned. The Prince stepped forward and kneeled in front of his father as the council and wizard watched. "This ring will mark you as the rightful heir to the Durin's Folk Throne. You will bring Erebor into a great era. The ring will bring you great fortune in wealth and power Guard it, at all cost." The King proclaimed.

Turráin looked up and frowned in surprise. It was not his father's own ring that was being held out for him…but the Firebeard's ring. "How...how did you come by this?" Turráin breathed as he stared up, transfixed by the jewelry. "It was brought to me by the Firebeard Chief himself, before he passed. For from the ruin and flames of Sauron's raid, has the Chief rescued this precious artifact and now, it is yours."

The Dwarf Prince exchanged a sidelong look with the tall wizard who stood nearby. Both had not heard of this news. Alatar's blue eyes seemed extra sharp as they narrowed, while he digested this news. Turráin returned his gaze up to his father and, feeling mixed emotions, held out his hand to accept the jewelry. His brows were still lifted slightly at his father's previous words. They were...symbolic, he hoped. The Prince would not save this heirloom as the Firebeard Chief had...at the cost of his people.

As the elder King handed Turráin the Firebeard's ring, Alatar noticed a glint in the King's eyes that he had not seen before...and did not like. It almost looked as if Náin would like nothing more than to keep the ring himself. But, it was supposed to be a joyous occasion, so Alatar let it fall to the back of his mind as the feast was served and barrels of ale were cracked open. That was the last joyous occasion Alatar would ever have with the Dwarves.

Two lunar cycles after the bequeathing of the ring to the rightful heir...

Turráin was pouring over a scroll inside one of his armored keeps within the ground level of the Mizim mine, The Jewel Mine. It had been given to the Prince by his father; to oversee and build. It was a chance to prove his capability of garnering riches. And Turráin proved to be very proficient, for his royal vaults were overflowing with treasure not only found from deep within the mine, but from trades and, other business ventures.

The Dwarf Prince had requested not to be interrupted as he studied the blueprints of the Mizim mine. He needed some sort of advantage over what now lived deep within the ground. But, his peace was short lived for a great amount of shouting and thundering armored feet was drawing near.

Alatar stormed in, the Dwarven guards trailed after him, crying out for him to stop with, "_The prince has ordered that no one shall interrupt him!_" and "_He is in the middle of highly confidential and important business_!" Hanging on his last string of self control, Alatar whipped around and stared down the guards as he towered over them. His blue eyes darker than ever.

"It is alright," Turráin called to his inept guards. The Dwarf Prince tore his gaze away from his schematics and saw the fierce look upon Alatar's face. Turráin paused, before adding, "Leave us be," without breaking eye contact with the Blue warrior wizard.

Once the doors closed behind the guards, Alatar released his tirade he had kept shut during his travel to the Mizim Mine. "What is going on Turráin? Your statutes have taken quite a turn that I have never dared to believe. Your taxations are drying up your own people! And that you have been turning refugees away. What of the promise you made to restore the peace between your kin and the Elves? It seems that matters have only further deteriorated!" Alatar nearly roared his voice hoarse.

This was not the Turráin, Alatar knew. Something had changed. Still silent, the prince stared up at him and Alatar momentarily saw a ghost of darkness flit within the Dwarf's brown eyes. Turráin took advantage of the wizard's pause to make his own sentiments known.

"I am the one to be King. And I will act as I see fit. I do not need your counsel. You are just...you..." But, as the prince looked up into Alatar's face, memories of old rushed back to the Dwarf. It was as if he had lost those memories in a part of his mind that seemed foggy and elusive. Why...why would it be so difficult to recall such wonderful memories he shared with his dear friend, with Pallo, with his own family?! It was as if he had been slowly losing his mind.

"Alatar, forgive me…" Turráin whispered with a hint of fear in his voice. The Prince took a step back and brought his hand to his head. Alatar instantly noticed the difference in his friend and his anger dissipated. "Turráin, of course I forgive you. Please, my friend of old, tell me what is happening." The wizard asked as he followed after the Prince. The Dwarf had returned to the table where the parchment was spread out. He was momentarily collecting his thoughts before he spoke in a low voice.

Turráin now realized what was happening to him and he confided to Alatar his suspicion. "I fear it is the ring, Alatar. There is a heavy feeling in my heart and mind when I wear it. And when I took it off, I felt my senses clear...but now…" Turráin lifted his hand up to gaze at the ornate jewelry. "...when it is off, I yearn to wear it. To not be apart from it nor any of my treasure." Alatar's eyes widened as his friend admitted this. But, before he could further question...

The ground suddenly shuddered underfoot. "What was that," Alatar whispered with a frown as his eyes swept the ground. That was not an earthquake, the wizard was sure of it. "It is...Borgil," Breathed Turráin in mix of worry and anger at the beast of the deep.

Still frowning, Alatar closed his eyes and tried to feel out the maker of the disturbance, sense what form it took. It was not the full tainted Maiar spirit, which ruled out Balrogs and other creatures of the darkness. But, the being did have some Maiar within it...and well as the raging power of an untamed great beast. 'No...' Alatar whispered as he grimaced.

The wizard's blue eyes opened, but he looked up into the heavens as if in exasperation while he groaned, "Not more bloody dragons." The man ran his hand through his unkempt raven hair. "Damnable creations of Morgoth's." Alatar continue to curse as his eyes fell back to the ground. He had had enough of drakes to last him an eternity.

For the first time in two months, Turráin's lips curled at the corners as he spoke. "Feeling adventurous, my friend?" The Dwarf prince asked softly; a glimmer rekindling in his honey brown eyes. The wizard's blue eyes seemed to sparkle in turn as he replied, "Always," with that roguish smile of his.

"I have been pouring over this map, trying to figure out the best way to reach the mine's cavern where Borgil has entrenched itself." Turráin let his thick finger glide over the parchment. "It is my mine, and my people suffering at the claws of the monster who is haunting its deep recesses. It must be stopped! And I, will end it." The Dwarf Prince breathed.

Alatar peered down at the map. The Mizim Mine had been dug out like cone, with long side paths carved into the walls. A series of pulleys and ladders sunk into it depths, stopping at major levels where vaults had been gouged into the walls. The Mizim Mine was known for it various and plentiful gems. Each vault had been marked with what jewels in held in its great chamber. There were rubies, diamond, opals, emeralds, sapphires and many more to make a glistening rainbow of stones.

"This will be tricky," Alatar remarked as he studied the parchment. There would be no reinforcements to hide behind. "Aye, but you've never been one to back away from a challenge." Turráin remarked, making Alatar's lips curl.

"Where is Pallo?" The Prince asked. Alatar tore his eyes away from the blueprints and looked towards one of the large windows. "She is in the town nearby, healing any who needs her aid." The Wizard didn't add that Pallo was keeping to treating with medicinal remedies. Lately, her healing powers had not been working. Pallo described it as if she were continually hitting a blockage in her channeling her healing and it was starting to frustrate her immensely. Especially when many needed her power as the war raged on.

Turráin suddenly remembered, and his voice called Alatar from his worried thoughts. "Your babe? Is she well?" The prince asked with concern. The wizard smiled kindly and nodded. "Aye, it will be soon. But, we still have time. Plus, Pallo can't stand not helping while war is upon us." Alatar placed a strong hand upon his friend's shoulder.

"We will be at your side, friend." The Blue Wizard added. "But, your wife?" Turráin remarked with a frown. He didn't want Pallo and the child to be put into danger over his...greed and blindness. "Duty calls, we will always answer, for we are Istari." Alatar replied proudly.

The two had poured over the maps and conceived a battle plan. Gathering their weapons, the pair met Pallo at the entrance of the mine before they descended into its depths. "It's quite dark down here…" Alatar whispered as his feet shuffled upon the rough carved out path.

"That is why we have our staffs, dear." Pallo remarked at her grinning husband...or at least she was pretty sure he was grinning. The light from both their wands confirmed her suspicion as Alatar gave her a little wink. Pallando wore slimming clothes seen upon the Elven Rangers of the Woodland Realm, though hers were dyed cerulean and navy blue befitting her Istari color.

She had forgone her belt and gifted vest as it was too constrictive for pregnant form. Though she continued to channel her guise in case outside eyes fell upon her. Pallo was strong and quite limber even in her state. If she needed, Pallo would lean upon her dark walnut staff. But, she would not miss this mission. The female Istari felt it in her heart that she had to join her husband and Turráin; and she would do what she could to help.

Turráin had donned on his steel armor from helm to boots. He also carried a his great sword, Caladcrist. This was no ordinary sword, but an heirloom of his people. The first crafted weapon forged by Aulë himself as he taught his children the art of folding metal and molding it into great weapons. It was said that Lady Varda of the stars, blessed it to help the wielder fight the creatures of the darkness. The iridescent rune markings glowed upon the blade as Turráin held it at the ready. The markings read, '_Remenu'_, To arms. The otherside, '_Khayamu'_, To victory.

As they continued to spiral down into the depths of the Mizim mine, the trio noted that each massive vault they passed had been broken into. Its precious gems, gone. Alatar held out his hand, pausing the pair behind him. The wizard closed his blue eyes and concentrated on sensing out what laid further in the darkness. But, he needn't search too far or long. The deep breathing of something colossal, inhaled and exhaled.

"A Dwarf...and Wizards," Borgil hissed in a mixture of contempt and interest. The voice was low, raspy, and feminine. Her hiss echoed and bounced upon the walls making it difficult to discern where she was. But, sudden movement below them made the two wizard's shine down the light from their staffs. Shining back, were two great red eyes that sparkled. Borgil's irises seemed to be made of rubies; one of the very gems she desired.

The dragoness was slim and elegant. Her snot grew long and narrow, though her jaws were set with many razor sharp fangs. Her sleek body was covered in scales of glistening obsidian black. The Dragon's claws were large and dangerously hooked like that of a great predatory bird. Borgil hissed at the bright light and retreated further down the mine like a slithering snake. She moved quietly and without disturbing the air around them.

The cavern was very wide though. Borgil could easily and swiftly move elsewhere. To help track her, Alatar began to talk. "You are young and fair, Borgil. Maybe you will see that, by letting us retake this mine, you will continue on to live a full and long life elsewhere."

While Alatar's first words had stroked her vanity well, the obsidian Drake hissed as she was coaxed into a reply. "The Mizim Mine has been won by my rightful conquest; thus it is my own to rule." Borgil hissed and Alatar whipped up his staff, noting that she was somewhere across the gap of the great mine. "A true ruler never fears the light," Alatar stated for he sensed that the serpent had moved again.

"I will bring you into the light, Borgil!" Bellowed Alatar as he slammed the end have his staff against the cold stone ground. Bright light exploded from his staff's top. And as Alatar held it up, it filled the deep cavern with brilliant light.

But, instead of looking down into the mine, Alatar's head whipped up to look into the open mouth of Borgil as she dived down upon them. "Watch out!" Alatar roared as he quickly ushered Pallo and Turráin to press up against the recess of the path as the dragon swooped down.

The trio rushed down the spiral path after the serpent. But, when Alatar's light exposed the end of the mine, all three halted in the descent and gasped in surprise and awe. The bottom of the Mizim mine was filled with all the gems from the vaults above. The slightly sunken into the ground; it gave the appearance of a stone pool, filled with a rainbow of glowing and sparkling gems. Around the gem filled pit was the last path of stone before it submerged into the jewels.

Perched in the middle of her vast treasure was the obsidian drake. Suddenly Borgil breathed a stream of howling red hot fire. Pallando was quick to act as she conjured up a pearl luminescent barrier that shielded them from the dragon's molten firebreath. The woman kept her concentration strong. At least she could be of some use in this battle.

Borgil unfurled her black velvety wings and soared above them. "You'll need to bring the wretched beast down!" Turráin bellowed from beneath his great helm. Alatar nodded as the dragoness sent out another stream of fire, to which Pallando expertly met with a powerful glowing dome to protect them. The air around them quickly grew hot and humid. All three began to perspire from the heat.

While Borgil flew off to recharge her flaming breath, Pallo dematerialized her shield and rested. Alatar seized the opportunity and sent crackling bolts of lightning streaming from his staff.

The Wizard aimed each blast at the serpent who swooped and dived as she tried to avoid the bursts of energy. But, Alatar was able to puncture holes into the dragoness's velvety wings. Borgil roared as she tried to stay aloft, but she began to plummet down, until she smashed into her trove of gems.

Realizing her loss of flight and infuriated, Borgil let out a deafly screech. The black drake began to whip her tail around while she spouted blazing streams of fire wildly around her. Distracted with dodging her flames, Alatar was taken by surprise by Borgil's black tail.

The tail slammed into the wizard, sending him crashing into the stone wall. "Alatar!" Pallo yelled as her husband's unconscious body crumpled onto the stone ground. The female Istari rushed to his side before realizing that Borgil was staring down at her.

Borgil's ruby eyes glistened with interest as she studied Pallo, who stood fiercely in front of her prostrated husband while she casted ghostly pearlescent shield. But, her magic wasn't what caught the dragon's attention. "You carry something within you." Borgil hissed.

The dragoness's voice was full of overwhelming curiosity. What could such a small female Istari carry. Her ruby eyes could see something glowing within the wizard's belly. Something pure and thriving with spirited life...something very precious. "What is this precious thing you carry?" Whispered the serpent, her voice seemed to echo gently, yearningly across the rocky walls.

Turráin even felt himself sway slightly at the soft vibrating voice of the dragoness. Her echoing voice was lulling, almost hypnotic. But, Pallando straightened her back at the serpent's question. Her bright amber eyes narrowed as she breathed through her nose. "Your dragon-spell has no power over me. I shall not answer you." Pallo stated angrily.

The dragon had sensed the power of her child, but hadn't understood that it was a pure Maiar spirit. Pallando may be quite helpless in the physical fight against Borgil, but the very idea of the dragoness seeking out her babe made the Istari's blood boil with a fierce maternal rage to protect her unborn daughter.

And so Pallo let loose some of her anger as she hissed, "Maybe I will give you a taste to your poisonous power." And in deep concentration, the wizard turned the Dragon's power upon herself, playing with dragoness's mind. Borgil was whipped around her head as her mind filled with disorienting echoes. Unable to break the spell, Borgil began to thrash madly about.

The serpent's great tail slammed onto Pallo's barrier. The Istari had been half controlling the shield and half casting her power upon the dragon's mind, that the force of Borgil's hit momentarily stunned Pallo. The fleeting paralyzation was enough to dematerialize the barrier, break her concentration on the dragon's mind, and cease her disillusionments, including her guise.

Turráin was shocked to see just how swollen Pallando's belly was. They were risking the life of their babe to help him. To help out what he had allowed to happen. The Dwarf prince was seized with overwhelming guilt and he raised his sword, leaping into action. At the same moment, Alatar had come back to his senses.

And just in time, for Borgil was filled with fury that her mind had been toyed with. She pulled back her long neck, like a snake readying to strike. Alatar jumped in front of his wife, acting as a shield to block the serpent's strike. But, as she snapped her jaws closed, it wasn't Alatar who was caught within her sharp fangs, but Turráin!

"Turráin!" Both Wizards shouted in horror as Borgil shook the Dwarf Prince in her jaws like a dog thrashing a chew toy about. Altar's eyes caught the shimmering glow of a rune engraved sword Turráin had dropped. Picking it up, the Warrior Wizard charged at the flailing beast, driving the Caladcrist into Borgil's soft underbelly. The dragoness spit Turráin from her jaws and howled with terrible pain as Alatar continued to drag the biting blade along the her belly.

Pallando had rushed to the crumpled Dwarf's side. Her hands trembled as they hovered over Turráin's bloody and punctured body. Borgil's fangs pierced through the steel armor, and crimson blood was trickling out. The healer tried to sense out his deep punctures and call forth her energy to mend the wounds quickly, but no matter how hard she willed herself, her healing ability did not come forth.

Pallo knew that there was nothing in her medicinal satchel that would heal such grievous wounds. And no healer but herself could have saved his broken body. She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes for she could do nothing for him.

Again she felt that she was most weakest of Istari. She had never mastered the manipulation of the elements. Healing was her prowess, which opened the door to her growing power to manipulate the mind. But, the ability to affect the mind, required complete and utter control or it could inflict terrible effects onto her allies and friends. If only she had developed other abilities usable in battle...Pallo sighed. It did no good to dwell on it now.

Instead, Pallando touched Turráin's forehead tenderly. Closing her eyes she sought to dampened the pain felt by the Prince's mind. Pallo could at least give her dying friend some comfort in his last moments. "Pallo," Turráin whispered with some effort due to multiple cracked ribs. "Thank you," He sighed as her amber eyes opened, welling with sad tears as she nodded and smiled softly down at him.

In the background, Borgil slunk onto her prized treasure, but her belly continue to bleed out. The crimson blood bathed the gems, turning all into piles of sickly glistening crimson rubies. "It will not end here, your attempt is in vain." The dragoness hissed vehemently as she continued to writhe and shudder in pain.

"The cycle will be broken, Borgil." Alatar's voice boomed as he lifted up his staff and the bloodied Caladcrist. The dragoness slowed as she succumb to her death, looking as if she were merely falling asleep upon her mountain of bloody treasure.

Alatar dropped to his knees besides his wife and prostrated friend. The wizard's deep blue eyes sparkled as he surveyed the Prince. "Turráin, why my dear friend." Alatar whispered as he grabbed his friend's hand and gently squeezed it.

Turráin's honey brown eyes looked away from Pallo, and rest up at Alatar. "You have a child to live for." The Prince breathed heavily. "The babe will need protection. And I'm sure, with you two being her parents, she will play an important role in all of Middle Earth." The Dwarf smiled under his great beard.

While he had been groggy with pain. After Pallo numbed the agony of his wounds, Turráin realized that his mind had never felt so clear and whole. The Prince had sudden clarity of his entire consciousness, where once the recesses of his mind had been steadily growing dark and cloudy; closing off areas of compassion, and understanding.

It was then, laying there and looking up at the two Wizards, that Turráin made his final decisions. He knew in his heart, that they were the right choices. "_Alatar_," The Prince breathed, realizing that liquid was slowly filling his lungs.

"With my last words, my faithful and great friends, I bequeath you two things. Caladcrist, the relic of my kin, may it aid you in pursuit against the creatures of darkness. And...the ring." Turráin grimaced as he slowly pulled the wretched jewelry off his finger. "If anyone can unravel its secrets and destroy it, is it you two." The Prince breathed as he placed the heavy jewelry into Pallo's open hand.

"Be careful." Turráin added as Pallo's delicate fingers wrapped over the ring. The Dwarf looked up into the young Istari's tearful amber eyes "I know you've done what you could Pallo." Turráin wheezed, for his breathing became more labored.

"Alatar, be wary of my kin. The ring's hold upon my mind was subtle and quiet. I know you will do your best to bring awareness to them. My mind is my own, I fear my kin my not be as lucky as I. You have my gratitude and thanks, dear friend." Turráin smiled though his eyes began to look distant and tired.

Alatar squeezed his friends hand and furiously blinked away the tears sparkling in his eyes. The Wizard cleared his throat as he whispered hoarsely, "They will sing songs of your heroic deeds my friend. You will be remembered in the stars." Turráin smiled as his eyes slowly closed. "Ah, starlight. So distant, and yet so beautiful for those who have dwelt in a world of stone and flame."

"...I return to the stone from whence my kin rose from…" Turráin sighed in content and Alatar felt his friend's grip lax as the Prince passed. His blue's eyes closed in grief as both wizards bowed their heads at the passing of their friend.

What seemed like hours only figments of blurred movement and distorted voices, Alatar and Pallo resurfaced. News of the Dwarf Prince's demise had spread. And Turráin's body was being prepared for the funeral pyre.

Back in the armory keep where Alatar had talked Turráin that very morning, the two Wizards sat in quiet mourning. Alatar was tempted to go chop the Borgil's head off and bring it out for all those to see what the Prince had faced. But, Alatar did not want to return to that damnable mine.

On the opposite side of the table sat Pallando. Her eyes were red from crying. Now, she mutely studied the heavy ring. It bore an ornate gem of cut amethyst. Purple, the regal color Mairon had always enjoyed. Mairon, her dear and caring brother who had not yet fallen to the darkness. Was it possible that a shadow of him still lingered deep within Sauron? Old habits that came out while he crafted the rings.

Alatar watched his wife study the ring and divulged his suspicion and what Turráin had confided to him earlier. "Yes," Pallo whispered for she could feel it, the trace of an evil taint was bound within this ring. Then Pallo recalled how Aulë had taught her Mairon. "He was a master craftsmen of Aulë tutelage; he must have discovered a way to imbue the metal and stone with his malice and will." Pallo remarked with distaste.

"The ones Galadriel, Gil-galad, and Elrond wear do not have such taint upon them." Pallo remarked with interest as she held the jewelry up to the light. It was too large to fit well on her small slim finger. _But, it was a beautiful piece of work…_

"You knew him best, my love. But, be careful." Alatar warned. "He is no longer who we once knew and loved. Sauron has become an abomination." Alatar stated darkly. "Yes…" Pallo whispered though she wasn't really listening anymore as she had, without really thinking, slipped on the ring.

Her eyes closed and her mind was engulfed by darkness. When her amber eyes opened, she found herself in a barren wasteland that seemed to be made of shifting hazy grey smoke. Soft whispers swirled around her. They were too low for her to fully understand, but she knew the language instantly...it was that of Black speech.

Before she could fully grasp the world around her a deep, yet cold voice called to her._ "Pallo...Pallo...Pallo"_ It whispered, louder than the any of the other dark whispers. And it continued to grow in strength, as if the owner of the voice was beside her. "...Pallando."

Whipping around, the young wizard found nothing, but more empty and continuously shifting expanse of land and the background whispers of Black speech. "I can feel you, little sister." The voice stated, before turning into a cold laugh. "Your mind is a beautiful thing. So colorful and filled with life.

Pallando closed her eyes and tried to find a way out, but her thoughts had become fuzzy...and she continued to hear the soft whispers. "Fall to the darkness, don't resist, I can feel your lust for power. The one who seemed to only be a healer. Who couldn't…" The voice paused as if in sudden realization. "Ah, but, you found a way to become dangerous in your own right. Join me Pallo, my little sister. And I will give you the power you have desired. Join me, and those who oppose you shall tremble in fear."

"No! Stop this." Pallando shouted as she rubbed her hands to her temples. Trying, but failing to focus her thoughts. "My mind is stronger than yours!" The dark voice boomed and it caused pressure to build in her head. It felt like a viciously growing migraine that threatened to pull apart her mind. Pallo fell to her knees from the pain, only to look and scream as she saw a great flaming eye stare down upon her.

"…I see you...I see...both of you! And soon, you and your child shall be mine!" The voice roared in triumph.

"Pallo!" Alatar's strong warm voice called to her. He had slipped off the large ring, tossing it into the corner of the room in his haste to free Pallo from whatever spell had befallen her.

"Oh, Alatar," Pallando wept into her hands as she was pulled out of the hazy dream and awoke into the Dwarven keep. "He knows, he knows!" Pallo cried as she now touched her heavy belly. Inside, the babe laid sleeping, unaware of how close it came to being touched by pure evil.

"Did he?" Alatar didn't dare finish his sentence, but his face was wrinkled with worry at the thought that Sauron might have been able to touch the babe's mind. "No." Pallo whispered through tears. "But he will look for us, for her. Oh, Alatar." She sniffed. "Do not worry," Alatar said soothingly as he brought his wife close to his side and he gently hugged her. "It will be alright."

Pallo hoped it would, but her mind was filled with dread...and the soft dark whispers of another's voice. _'...Pallo...Pallo...come to me…'_

"We must warn them, the Dwarven leaders of their rings." Pallo sighed as she slowly broke away from Alatar warm embrace. Her amber eyes gazed warily at ring in the corner of the room. "I'll be its caretaker." Alatar stated as he rose to his feet. He crossed the room and picked up the large stone bearing ring.

Slipping on the snug ring, Alatar turned to give Pallo a lopsided grin. "Mairon always said I was too disorganized and puzzling to figure out." Pallo gave her husband a soft smile as she shook her head. "Come, my love." Alatar beckoned. "Everyone will be gathering in Erebor for Turráin's funeral, we will summon a meeting."

Even though she nodded as she rose, Pallo looked uncertain. "Will they listen?" The wizard asked, her back to her husband for she had closed her eyes. The whispers still lingered in the back of her mind.

Pallando nearly jumped as she felt Alatar's strong warm hand upon her slim shoulder. "They must," He growled in his deep voice. Pallo turned, to look into the darkening horizon. She needed to find a way stop the whispers...

Once again the leaders of each clan sat upon their ornate thrones, though one remained empty. The air of the meeting chamber couldn't have felt more somber. King Náin had his remaining sons standing at his sides; Dáin and Borin. The King's face was gaunt, while the brothers' heads hung low in mourning.

In the middle was Alatar, standing in front of the podium for he had the floor. Pallando stood off to the side, quietly watching with hands clasped around her lotus blossom staff. The meeting was not going well…

Alatar's warning of an evil taint upon their precious rings were falling upon deaf ears. "Have you not wondered why Dragons had never been attracted to great Dwarven kingdoms until the rings were acquired?" Alatar said strongly. "These rings have twisted your minds with greed and your hoard of treasure has attracted the Drakes from their slumber. Beasts who have not attacked since Morgoth was defeated!

"Serpents who had never independently cared about Dwarves before. You have lost Turráin due to these foul rings!" Alatar proclaimed to the council. He had known each member personally, yet while they watched him, he felt like they were total strangers

If the meeting seemed like a total fiasco, things suddenly turned for the worst. Tempers flared at Alatar's words against their prized heirlooms. And unanimously, the council of Dwarves demanded that Turráin's ring be returned to them. "So Sauron can have the opportunity to warp another mind? Who would it be Dáin or Borin who will slowly suffer the Dark Lord's plague?!" Alatar yelled fiercely, unable to believe it was truly happening.

Alatar looked upon the different Chief's faces. Each had fallen deeper into the corruption of their rings. Their thrones had become opulent, oh...how blind the wizard had been all this time! The greed was so obvious now. He could not let this continue. One by one they would fall, to Orcs, Balrogs, and Dragons. Alatar could see it now...if nothing was done.

It was King Náin who suddenly rose from his throne and spoke in his deep voice. "If you will not return our rightful ring, then consider our promise forfeit. We will not join the last stand with the Elves and Men." Pallando's amber eyes widened in shock at the King's proclamation. And how each clan leader nodded in agreement!

Alatar was stunned. To go so far over this ring...it was madness! "But, your alliance to free the world! To rid Sauron's taint! We have forged this together, we must stand united!" Alatar pleaded in alarm at the Dwarves withdraw.

"You forge an alliance? Ozirum menu seleku!" [_You couldn't forge a spoon!_] King Náin spat the great insult. And Alatar's rage nearly boiled over. "You blind fools!" Alatar bellowed in rage.

He had to witness the death of a beloved and valiant friend. How many more would suffer at this council's greediness? No, he would not let it! The ground underneath his feet began to shake and white hot sparks began to crackle from his staff. He was losing his temper in a way he had never known.

"Alatar!" Pallo cried out as she rushed to his side. She hugged him, and reached out to his mind. "Calm yourself my love. Come back to me." Pallando whispered in almost a melodious voice. But, in her haste to calm her husband's mind...she had coaxed him too far.

Alatar's body went limp and he slumped heavily upon the green podium. Now all the Dwarves lept to their feet in shock and mounting fear of what they had just seen. "She is the reason behind this!" Called out one leader. "Yes! Pallando has the ability to manipulate others!" Cried out another in bewilderment. "Well then, Pallando. Tell me, did you manipulate my son to give up his two most treasured possession to you? Did you coax him to his dying breath." King Náin growled.

She had always been in complete control...thorough...careful…and aware. But, what had happened?! The initial shock of her ability surging like this dissipated at the King's poisonous declaration. The Dwarves were about to feel the true wrath of an Istari!

Pallo looked up from her husband. Her bright amber eyes burning with a rage she had never felt. A dark fury emanated from her and began to fill the entire chamber. Her voice boomed eerily as she proclaimed, "I will tell you something Dwarves. Heed me, and heed me well, for your great kingdoms will fall under darkness and to ruin. Your descendants will be forced from the homes and will wander the wastes. And you will know of suffering like never before!"

As Pallo said this, a will to dominate their minds overtook her. She sought to make them tremble at her might, at her true power. And so the wizard reached out to each Dwarf, striking at their minds like dark shadowed claws. She could hear cries of pain and whimpers of fear as the Dwarves found themselves lost to her dark fury and contempt.

'_Pallo...Pallo…'_ The whispers called out to her and she...almost smiled back. "Pallo?!" It was now Alatar's strong voice echoing and Pallando gasped as she broke all channeling of her magic. Gasping roughly as she looked wildly about her and nearly cried out in fear at her doing.

Slumped either on their thrones or upon the floor were the Dwarves. Trembling, Pallando gently reached out to them in fear for the worst. But, she had just knocked everyone out.

"Oh Valars in the heavens above!" Pallo whispered as she covered her mouth with her trembling hands. She had promised herself, sworn that she wouldn't use her powers upon allies again; no matter how grave the situation became! And, the wizard had always been careful, aware of her ability and capable of controlling it.

Not only had she lost her control, but she had yearned for more power and to dominate those around her. To make them suffer...

"What...what did you do? Dear?" Alatar asked in more concern over her silence and tearful gaze. "We must leave immediately!" Pallando cried as she fled out of the room. "Pallo!" Alatar yelled, running after her. He kept on running, until he found her awaiting him outside.

"Pallando, talk to me please." Alatar pleaded as he reached out to her. Studying her face, he noticed dark circles under her tearful eyes. She looked broken and fearful, not daring to look up and meet his gaze. Gently, he used his thumbs to wipe the trails of salty tears away.

"Remember, I promised to stay by your side. No matter what, my love." Alatar said softly. His warm voice soothed her nerves and calmed her fleeting heart. "Please, tell me what ails you. And I will do what I can do help." The wizard whispered gently as he lifted her chin up with his fingers.

Pallando looked up. Her bright amber eyes sparkling with fresh tears as she confessed in a haunting whisper. "Alatar...he is inside my mind."

* * *

**Author's Rambling notes and research:**

Whew! Okay, so again hot off the press. But, I hoped you enjoyed it!

1 lunar cycle is about 29 days so I use it to describe almost a months time has past.

I've taken to the theory that dragons were the descendants of Maiar and beasts intertwining. Thus, Dragons have traces of Maiar within in though faint. But, they still have the connection...hmmmm. And to top it off, Alatar seems to be quite knowledgeable of dragons.

Interesting thing I read about the _'curse' _befalling those who slayed dragons. The slayer inevitable comes into fued with other parties. The example used were of Fram vs Scatha and of course the Battle of the Five Armies after Smaug. So I have decided to extend that theme around Alatar.

I cut it off a little early. If liked/enjoyed, I'll add more to this supplementary series as we continue with the main story :3

I really hope you like it and let me know what you think! I enjoy hearing from readers x3

Mizim = 'Jewel' found on the Khuzdul Dictionary E-K v01JUN12


	3. Ch 36 The Broken King Extended

**Ch. 36 The Broken King Extended**

**A stand alone chapter** that can be read after Ch. 35 and before the next chapter is up in, _"The Unexpected Apprentice,"_ story.

I'm trying to establish more to Thranduil's background based on not only what I have researched, but original ideas and connections in blank spots here and there so I can really get into Thranduil's mind.

So, I will to state right now that this is quite AU because of original character insertions, and some skewing of the following: timeline of certain events, lineage/relations, and where certain individuals were present and their age. Just a heads up. I hope you will enjoy this take on Thranduil's, Linarania's, and Oropher's past.

"There is greatness in their blood. But, it has been tainted by greed and sorrow."

- _Radagast, the Brown Wizard_

* * *

The day had been long and weary. Reports of spiders trying to breach the Kingdom's perimeter were now coming in daily. The cursed arachnids may have been able to take of the old ruins of Amon Lanc, but try as they might, the spiders would never enter the heart of the Woodland Kingdom. The enchantments were still strong and protective...just as she promised.

Thranduil let out a low sigh. Tired, he decided to rest his eyes as he leaned into the intricately chiseled wooden throne. His mind drifted peacefully into expansive darkness, until it decided to revisit the past; his childhood.

A young Elfing with shoulder length sleek silver blonde hair was racing through the stone hewed halls of Menegroth, the capital of Doriath and place of his birth. Menegroth was nicknamed a Thousand Caves and Caves for it was an underground city and grand fortress.

Thranduil took a sharp left into an upcoming hall and continued to sprint past ladies in waiting and servants. Today Elrond was visiting and Thranduil had gotten his friend to play hide and seek. Elrond was older than Thranduil by five years, just like Linarania. But, his half-elven friend was courteous to humor Thranduil.

Now, where could Elrond be hiding? Thranduil searched King Thingol's palace and accidentally stumbled upon an open hall where Thingol's court was in procession. It would have been very tricky of Elrond to hide amongst the King's audience!

Yet, Thranduil's grey blue eyes did not find Elrond...in fact Thranduil did not spot his own father either. But, the Elfling wasn't surprised, for Oropher did not care much for his position in court; even though he held the lowest rank. Thranduil had heard whispers revealing that Oropher would not even be in court if it had not been for his agreeable marriage to Gilrin, the Lady Crowned with Stars.

Gilrin was the youngest daughter of a very prominent and wealthy Elven family in Doriath. Indeed it was a surprise to all that the match had been made. But, what Oropher lacked in ambition he made up for with his charisma and ability to charm those around him.

Ladies fawned over him, while their significant others were quite envious of Oropher's carefree nature and skill at the hunt. The gossip was that while Thingol was rather peeved by Oropher's lack of responsibility for his court appointed task; he kept Oropher in his position to ensure that the King's hunt was always successful.

No one was as skilled of a hunter as Oropher. Some say that Oromë must have blessed the Elf with such skill. Though, unlike any hunter Thranduil knew of, Oropher rode upon an Elk rather than a horse. The Elven hunter had always admired the powerful and wise Elk and he had a way with the beasts. A great snow white Elk named Maglabeth had become Oropher's companion and prized mount.

As an excellent tracker, Oropher had keen silver grey eyes that suited his silver blond hair and pale complexion. Thranduil had inherited his father sleek ashen hair and fair skin, yet he had a mix of his mother's and father's eyes. Grey eyes with a hint of icy blue.

Linarania looked more like their mother with her long wavy golden hair and deep blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires. Indeed Linarania was finding herself with a growing amount of admirers. But, his sister was more preoccupied with her studies and working on her skill in arts of healing.

Thanks to their mother's status, Linarania had direct access to the Queen of Doriath. It was Queen Melian, who opened Linarania's eyes to the celestial bodies in the heavens and taught their secrets to the young Elf maiden.

Thranduil had been very surprised when he discovered that Queen Melian was actually a Maia, one of the Ainur. Not only was a Holy One amongst them, but she had fallen in love and married Thingol. Thranduil had witnessed the power of the Maiar, for Melian had established a protective spell around Doriath called the Girdle of Melian. And within its enchantments the populace found a safe haven to flourish.

There were also rumors that a special type of Maiar were amongst the beings of Middle Earth. The Istari. They were said to roam under the guise of old men and sought to learn from those of Middle Earth. But, so far none have revealed themselves in Doriath.

Thranduil continued down one of the halls and came to a skidding halt at the scene before him. The Elfling groaned loudly. Elrond had stopped playing altogether for he had come across Linarania and was animatedly talking to her as she smiled gently back. It was no secret that Elrond was infatuated with Lina. Thranduil made a face at the very thought of them kissing...ewww.

Thranduil huffed in defeat and strode back into the long passageway until he found himself outside of the city altogether for warm sunlight had washed over him. Sighing, the Elfling looked towards the great forest. No doubt his father was within the forest right now on another great hunt.

Thranduil was still deemed too young to join the activity. So, in his free time outside of private tutoring, the Elfling would go watch his mother train the Royal Guard in the art of the spear. Thranduil was more adept at the sword than a spear. The Elfling looked forward to the day he would be recognized as an adult; then he could participate in advanced training and be allowed to participate in the hunts.

But, at least another highly anticipated day was approaching. The day where King Thingol will hold a great feast and present a treasure precious to all in Arda. Thingol had commissioned a group of Dwarves from Nogord to smith the coveted Silmaril jewels into the Nauglamír necklace. But, when the day of the feast came, so did a great disturbance.

A dispute had broken out between King Thingol and the Dwarves who had worked on the jewelry. The dispute turned deadly as King Thingol was slain by the Dwarves, who then fled the capital with the treasure. Later that day, instead of the promised joyful feast, the people of Doriath mourned the loss of their great King. Grief stricken, Melian, their Queen had retreated back to Valinor, vowing to never return again.

The only glimmer of good news that followed was that the Nauglamír, which held the Silmaril, had been retrieved. The traitorous band of Dwarves had been rightfully slain. Little did the citizens of the Kingdom know that two Dwarves of the band had escaped capture and a very different version of the story was being told to the Chief Dwarf of Nogord.

While the Elves of Doriath mourned their leader, a Dwarven army was marching towards them. Without Melian to uphold the protective enchantments of the Girdle, Doriath was left vulnerable.

A great horn bellowed out an alert in the middle of the night. Its echoes resonated deep within the caves of Menengorth, awaking all the occupants in the capital. "Up! Rise my children!" Came Gilrin's cry as she rushed into Thranduil's and Linarania's rooms. The Elven mother urgently roused her sleepy children. They were running out of time.

Thranduil and Linarania both became more alert at the sight of their mother in full gleaming silver armor and war spear gripped in her gloved hand. Gilrin's golden hair was haphazardly plated into a bun as she ushered her little ones into the hall, dissuading them to take anything for they needed to move, and quickly.

"Mama, what is going on?" Linarania asked fearfully as she pulled around her white crocheted shawl to cover her silver sleeping gown. Thranduil was wearing his simple white sleeping tunic and slacks. Eyes wide in worry, the young Elfling had been hopping around a little as he pulled on his slippers.

It wasn't Gilrin who answered Linarania, but their father. "Doriath is under attack. The Dwarves of Nogrod are now sieging the capital." Oropher said in a low cautious voice. He was also already in his silver steel armor, his gold filigreed and engraved sword was held at the ready as he beckoned the family to follow him.

Thranduil had never seen their father look so serious, nor had he ever heard such terrible screams meet his ears when Oropher opened their front door into the great hall. Screams of agony filled the air, mixed with cold metal clangs of weapons clashing. It sounded like the whole of Menegroth was in disarray. With the recent loss of their great leader and lowering of their protective barrier, the Dwarven army had taken the most opportune moment to strike.

"They are after the Nauglamír. But, we must quickly take the secret passage out of here. Go go!" Oropher commanded in a low whisper as Gilrin, Linarania, and Thranduil sprinted down the hall. Heart pounding in his chest and breathing deeply, Thranduil tried to shut out the bloody screams of his fellows as they were being slaughtered.

Gilrin pushed open a hidden passageway and the cool air from the outside rushed in. She beckoned them to quickly exit the passage. Oropher whistled into the warm night, calling upon what looked like a blur of a white ghost, which came rushing out of the woods at his master's call. "Lina! Take Thranduil! Go! Maglabeth will take you safely into the forest." Oropher commanded.

Shaking, Linarania tried to stay strong as she nodded and pulled herself up onto the great Elk, who had bowed to help her climb up. "But, I want to fight!" Thranduil cried out in protest. Oropher smiled sadly before shook his head. "One day, you will fight for all of us my son. But, it is not this day." The Elf whispered gently as he picked up his son, placing him in front of Linarania upon the Elk.

Just as Gilrin was about to close the hidden door behind her, the door swung forcefully open, knocking her off her feet. Five armored Dwarves had leapt out of the passageway and withdrew their weapons. Gilrin leapt to her fighting stance and began dueling with the five Dwarves all on her own as she whipped and thrusted around her deadly golden spear; ensuring that none got past her, to her children.

"Go!" Oropher shouted as he slapped the hindquarters of the Elk, sending it sprinting into the dark forest before he joined his wife in the fight.

Maglabeth leapt over fallen tree trunks and small streams with graceful ease. Then, the great Elk came to a sudden halt and remained stalk still, his furry ears twitching back and forth as it listened. Both Linarania and Thranduil remained quiet, though both nearly gasped in fright as what seemed to be a stream of lights bobbing in a line. The army of Dwarves…Thranduil could hear their low murmurs and laughter. They were retreating from the capital, and no doubt with whatever they saw fit to take.

Thranduil clenched his teeth as his nails dug into the skin of his clenched fists. He wanted to stop them, to make them pay! But, a soft hand gently squeezed his shoulder. Thranduil looked up and behind him to see Linarania shake her head softly. They were young, unarmed, and wearing no armor. Easy prey to kill or worse capture and enslave in whatever means they saw fit. It was best to remain hidden and let them pass, while hoping to go unnoticed.

Thranduil looked back at the retreating lights and vowed that one day, he would make them pay. He would have revenge, for never will he come to the aid of a Dwarf. The trail of lights faded and disappeared into the darkness of the forest. Only filtering moonlight through the canopies above was their light.

Suddendly, Maglabeth's white ears were alert again as they flicked at sounds that only his keen ears could pick up. But, then both Thranduil and Linarania heard it too. A whistle, soft and weak came upon with the gentle breeze. "Father!" Linarania remarked in both worry and relief. "Come Maglabeth, take us to Oropher!" she ordered the great Elk, who obediently sprinted off in the direction of the sound.

There, leaning against the trunk of an oak tree was their father. His armor was blood stained and there were cuts upon his face. He clutched at his right side, which seemed to pain him. "Father!" Linarania cried out as Maglabeth rushed over to his master's side. The beast quickly kneeled to allow the young Elves to jump off. And just in time for Oropher had slipped off the trunk of the tree, but his children had caught him.

His body was in pain and weak from loss of blood. In all his years, never had Oropher imagined that he would have to fight the children of Aulë. He had underestimated how strong the Dwarves had become, as well as their greed. Oropher kept still as Linrania began to check and treat his wounds. He was glad that the children were unhurt, but then his son asked the dreaded question.

"Where is mother?" Thranduil asked in worry. Oropher closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. It was only then that the two children realized that Gilrin's spear laid next to their father. If Gilrin did not have her spear, then…"No!" Thranduil shouted in disbelief. "If mother is hurt than Lina can help her! She is an excellent healer! Let us go help her!" Thranduil rose to go back and look for his mother.

"No!" Oropher commanded and with what strength he could muster, caught his son's wrist to prevent him from walking further away. "Do not go back there." Oropher said in a low voice full of warning. He did not want his children to witness what the Dwarves had done; though Oropher had made sure they paid for the death of his dear wife.

Thranduil pulled his hand out of his father's grip, but nodded his understanding. Linarania was still bent over her father; tending to the wounds she could treat. Her curtain of golden hair hid the tears trailing down her cheeks. Once Oropher was as patched up, he rose gingerly to his feet. "We must move. There is no assurance we are safe in the forest or if we return home. Without Melian, Doriath will always be vulnerable. Come." Oropher said softly.

He then leaned down and picked up Gilrin's spear. Oropher then untied his sword's sheath from his waist and handed the sword to Thranduil. Wide eyed, and mouth slightly agape, Thranduil accepted his father's sword, finding it remarkably light. "It may seem too early. But, Thranduil today marks the first steps you will take as an adult. May the Valar protect you on your path under the sky, my son." Oropher stated.

A bittersweet beginning to their journey through the wilderness, as the three searched for a new place to call home. Onwards they traveled silently in the night, guided by Linarania's knowledge of the celestial bodies. During the day, Oropher taught his son to hunt, while Linarania searched for herbs and various edible plants. Even though life was hard and unpredictable, Thranduil would later recall it as one of the happier times he had spent with his father.

Yet, onwards they trekked, over the harsh conditions of Ered Luin, until they came to a great ancient forest. The dense woods held whispers low and soft as the old trees spoke to one another about the new presence in their realm. Suddenly everything became eerily quiet and the three Elves then found multiple arrows aimed at them. Both Linarania and Thranduil raised their hands up, but not their father. Instead Oropher proudly and confidently drew himself to his full height and spoke out to the wielders of the bows hidden in the shadows of the trees.

"My kin, I am Oropher of Doriath, clansmen to the late King Thingol and Queen Melian. Our home was lost and we have been travelling ever since. We come in peace and only seek refuge and come in peace." Oropher spread his hands out to show that he was unarmed, yet his voice was strong and warm. At first there was only silence, as if the bowmen were mulling over Oropher's words. Then the leaves rustled as the hidden archers revealed themselves.

Thranduil was taken aback to see a group of Silvan Elves before them. Yet, he was more surprised by how captivated the Silvans were of Oropher, especially when they all sunk into a low bow. The Silvan clan was honored to be in the presence of the Sindar and welcomed their stay in their forest.

And it didn't stop there. The Silvan began to look towards Oropher for guidance and knowledge. Thranduil's father was soon promoted as Silvan's leader of the Woodland Realm. Oropher enjoyed the attention and in turn, he organized the Silvan clan. He also established his capital upon a great naked hill to the south which was named, Amon Lanc.

But, soon within its great halls the new King grew restless. Oropher was never one whose attention held long for the duties and responsibilities of court. Now to be back inside the restrictive walls and tending to tedious work, Oropher found himself slipping back to his old ways.

Finally, Oropher found his position to be a complete and utter bore. The Elven Lord didn't want to be bothered with it anymore. And so he left the duties of his title to be tended to by his eldest while he went about his old pleasures of the hunt.

Indeed, the responsibilities of the entire Woodland Kingdom fell onto Linarania's shoulders. Yet, she rose up brilliantly to the monumental task. Her first endeavor was to establish trading with both the Beornings to the west and those of Esgaroth, a human settlement in the middle of a lake to the north east.

From the trading, the Woodland Realm became known for its different flavorful wines. To further promote the trading and travel within the forest, the Woodland Princess established the great Elven Road.

Linarania also reached out to a hermit named Radagastwho lived in a small cottage to the south in Rhosgobel. Oropher had found the old human man to be humorous and very odd. The King did not pay much heed to his presence. Yet, the princess invited him to feasts and asked for his council about caring for the forest.

Indeed, Linarania ushered the Woodland Elves into a wealthy and flourishing age. Yet, what she was best known for were the great feasts she hosted to celebrate the movement of the stars. From the Mereth nuin giliath, The Feast of Starlight to Midsummer's Eve Banquets, Linarania gathered her people and strengthened their kinship through their love for the stars.

It seemed like nothing could darken the Woodland Realm's golden age. But, one day Linarania was observing the movement of the celestial bodies above and an omen of upcoming discourse was revealed. Upon the King's return, the Princess warned her father of what was foretold by the stars. Yet he scoffed at her warnings since there were no such signs to be seen.

But, Linarania knew it was only a matter of time. News from traders spoke of a darkness growing beyond the great mountains of Mordor. Whispers of an old enemy were upon the wind once more. A shadow was spreading and fell creatures were once again on the prowl.

The pattern was there for those who were ever watchful. The signs that confirmed the calamity revealed by the stars. A great disturbance was coming and Linarania would do all she could in her power to protect the Woodland Realm.

The Princess warned her father again, though this time she cautioned him of the shadow creeping over Oropher's favorite hunting ground. The Woodland Guard reported of how a plague was growing into the forest. The trees no longer talked, nor do they grow. A silence had fallen upon that part of the forest as if it was slowly dying.

But, once again her warning was pushed aside as the King planned his hunt. Though to her surprise and great pleasure, Thranduil listened to her warning and decided to stay.

The Prince had been greatly enjoying the carefree time he spent with his father. He discovered that their was more to this ancient forest and had even earned an Elk companion of his own. But, when he saw the tired and stressed look upon his sister's face, Thranduil took pause and listened to her.

He decided to stay and help his sister strengthen the kingdom. The Princess was much keener than he gave her credit for. Indeed Linarania put him right to work as she gave him many tasks from militarizing the Woodland army to creating outposts and relay points.

Then one day she requested Thranduil to build a stronghold for the Woodland Realm. Linarania stated that Amon Lanc was strategically weak and could become vulnerable. To ensure the safety of their people, they would need a great fortress.

And so Tranduil went to work. He mused over design of this Woodland stronghold until a memory from his childhood inspired him. Eagerly, the Prince went to work on a fortress strong enough to protect his people, yet worthy of a King. And as it came close to being finished, Thranduil wanted to surprise his sister with their new Woodland Palace.

Curious, she allowed herself to be blindfolded and led by her eager brother. "Remember Menegroth, sister?" Thranduil whispered, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yes," Linarania sighed wistfully as she closed her eyes underneath the blindfold. Her mind briefly wandered the great stone halls of their lost home. "Well, feast your eyes upon our new home Lina." Thranduil stated proudly as he released her blindfold and Linarania's blue eyes widened at what she saw.

A home like any other, yet nostalgic of where they had grown up. Yet this was an underground forest of roots and living rock. "Thranduil," Linarania breathed in awe. "This is spectacular." Thranduil stood tall and proud at her words before he added softly, "It is our home now, and it will never be taken from us. I promise you." Linarania placed a gentle hand upon her brother's shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. She knew how Thranduil felt.

But, if Thranduil thought that his sister was going to lighten the load of tasks she gave him, then he was grossly mistaken. As soon as they settled within the Woodland Palace, Thranduil found himself taking over more important tasks that had been Linarania's. He began to have an uneasy sense that his sister was preparing him to take over, as if she feared that she would one day be gone.

Yet Thranduil couldn't understand why his sister would worry so, until father came home. When Oropher returned from his hunt, there something was different about him. It was as if his mind and heart had darkened while he was out in the sick forest.

He had returned seething about how Celebrimbor, the greatest Elven smither of the current age and grandson of Fëanor, had smithed three great rings of power. Each encompassed an element that would help the wearer protect their lands. Celebrimbor had gifted these rings to whom he deemed the greatest Elven Lords Gil-galed, Galadriel, and Elrond.

Yet, it wasn't the fact that Oropher's kingdom wasn't going to be given extra protection that angered the Woodland King. It was that he had been snubbed by Celebrimbor all together that vexed the King. And so he promised that he would do everything in his power to make the Woodland Realm and his family the greatest of all Elven Kingdoms.

And so, the King set forth his plan by arranging Linarania to marry Elrond. He saw it as a strategic move that would gain him influence and direct access to Lord Elrond. And he had already received an exuberant yes from the Lord of Imlardis. Oropher remembered how the lad had always been quite fond of Linarania.

But, what he had not excepted, was Linarania's flat out rejection to the proposal. Not only was she disinclined to leave her home and family...but the Princess then revealed to all that she had been secretly meeting the Captain of the Woodland Guard, whom she had fallen in love with.

The Woodland King was outraged. Not only was his finest chance of elevating the family's status ruined, but the fact that his daughter had romantically entangled herself with a lowly Silvan Elf that made the King furious. He immediately exiled the Captain from the Woodland Kingdom. And to his own daughter, he sentenced her to be locked up in the dungeons.

"Father, you cannot do that!" Thranduil pleaded in horror, though Linarania was quiet and still. "True," Oropher remarked, before adding. "I first need dungeons to place her in and you will have them built. The palace should have dungeons for those who disobey my ruling and betray the family." Oropher said in a low and venomous voice.

Thranduil couldn't believe it, yet he followed his father's order. Feeling guilty to know that his dear sister would spend her life locked away, he made sure that the cell that would be hers would be different and placed away from the others.

From then on, Thranduil's relationship with his father had grown strained. The Prince no longer accompanied Oropher on hunts. In fact he took the opportunity of the King's absences to allow Linarania to escape from her cell and stargaze for those blissful moments.

Yet, Oropher's quest to elevate the family's name was not at an end. And soon Thranduil would find out that his sister would not be the only one imprisoned in the Woodland Realm.

* * *

**Author's rambling Notes:**

Whew! So the rest of Thranduil's past will be glimpsed in the main story or in another extended chapter. I hope you enjoyed the little look into Thranduil's early years. I could not find any information about his mother so Gilrin is completely made up; even her death. Just added that to make things worse between Thranduil and Thorin! :o

It helped me establish what kind of relationship Thranduil had with his family and of course the Dwarves. The Nauglamír will come into play in the main story. I have read debates on whether it is the Nauglamír, holding the Silmaril, Thrain shows Thranduil in the small chest during the movie.

Also I stated that the Istari were roaming the lands under their guises as they learned from the beings of Middle Earth. However, Pallando and Alatar were still in the Valinor as they were deemed too young unlike Gandalf, Saruman, and Radagast.

My interpretation of Oropher is based on his grave tactical decision in the Battle of Dagorlad with the last Alliance of Elves and Men. While I read that he accidentally called an early charge, I've taken his tactic and used it to establish my take on his personality. (In case you started wondering why he has this certain personality.)

I had hinted here and there that Gilrin, Thranduil's mother may have been a Vanyar, or the Fair Elves. A lineage Galadriel's grandmother was of. The Vanyar were spear wielding Elves with golden hair.

Also, I glossed over and omitted certain events all together during Thranduil's life in Doriath because the main purpose of this chapter was to define the relationships Thranduil had as to better portray his character in the main story.

**RESEARCH**

The following were researched on lotr wikia, Tolkien Gateway, and Wikipedia: Oropher, Thranduil, Thingol, Elrond, Melian, Doriath, Menegroth, The Girdle of Melian, Nauglamír, Silmaril, Amon Lanc, and Dwarves of Nogord.

Technically Celebrimbor gave one ring to Galadrial and two rings to Gil-galad…who later gave one of his to Elrond. But, I just wanted to needle Oropher further.


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